


180th Lamp post

by Wayward_curls



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Broken Draco Malfoy, F/M, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Possessive Draco Malfoy, Possessive Theo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-13 13:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21494938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_curls/pseuds/Wayward_curls
Summary: Soul-mates walk a fine, jagged line between friendship and romance. And it never gets easier with time....
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott
Comments: 17
Kudos: 19





	1. A walk down the memory lane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LadyKenz347](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKenz347/gifts).

> HER

She reached below the belt, lower and lower..........

Once again, she was walking along the once grandiose halls of the mighty prince. The marble tiles still shone brightly in the darkness that overwhelmed her. The pillars on either side were covered in grime and splatters of blood. The inky darkness parted to show her the once familiar long corridor that held 180 lamps on either side. Each of her steps forward, snuffed the light out of the lamp passed, forcing her to stride forward. And so she did. It was precisely at the point of passing the 74th lamp that the voices started to appear....

some spoke words of endearment, some cursed at her, some complained about literally everything under the sun or was it the moon now?......

"Hello beautiful"

"Ooh! That's the ice queen!!" (_Huh??)_

"This dress is too gaudy for MY tastes!!"  
"Please save my baby! Please don't go... Come back"

And yet her logical side knew that one look behind could ruin her last chance at survival.... (_from what exactly???...._.)

On she went, passing the 91st lamp where the head of a young guard was spiked on top of it, blocking the flame and thus allowing the blackness to hug her more intimately from all sides. She was more annoyed by that than horrified, and her own emotions baffled her and befuddled her brain, causing her to misstep and stumble backwards. The voices got closer at an alarming rate......

She ran towards the last lamp on the corridor, which was not unfortunately the 180th lamp. It was the 179th one as the 180th broke on the day she fought with him... (_who exactly was he??_) And why did she fight with him in the first place? as far as she could recall, he was definitely of a handsome built and had an all-time infuriating smirk on his rugged face. Maybe it was that smirk which did the trick, her brain provided helpfully, or was it unhelpfully... since any wrong direction of thinking could definitely lead her to a trap.

The large ornate oak door sat right in front of the 180th lamp post. Her dainty feet caught on the numerous glass shards that were once part of the 180th lamp. Rivulets of blood ran along the glass shards and the marble tile was slightly dyed in crimson red. The leg when lifted portrayed several gashes along the surface of the sole, crisscrossing at several points. Her mind was yet too numb to relieve the extreme pain, so she stood more steadily on the glass shards, crunching and dying them in the process.

The door was illuminated by the shadow of the flame of the 179th lamp. The gold knobs scattered on either panels of the door, had been surely polished a few days ago (can certainly say that it was over polished!). But the rest of the door was entirely covered in cobwebs and grime presenting an overall hideous sight. The overtly frozen, too numb mind was giving her a persistent headache, persuading her to almost lean on the door….. Yet she managed to veer back in the last second crunching more glass shards in the process. The voices were again getting closer at an alarming rate……. Now or never?!

Using the last residue in her bony hands and praying to all existent and non-existent gods of noose mythology (or was it Greek?), she pushed upon the doors to step into another black abyss. Stings of pain started registering in her mind, making it impossible for her to take any further steps. Halting in her progress, she faltered between closing the door and resting on the floor and stepping back into (now completely covered in the sinful darkness) the corridor to join the hoard of voices that threaten to overwhelm her already fragile mind…

> **HIM**

The table was littered with scrolls of varying lengths and contents. The burden of it all was heavily weighing upon him, and it showed: the bony hands, the sunken eyes, and his pallid complexion which starkly contrasted against his all-time black robes. Going directly to the wine cabinet hidden behind the burgundy coloured heavy, thick curtain, he drew out an expensive red wine bottle. The wine glass sat atop the cabinet, still containing a few drops of champagne.

Uncaringly (Ugh! so much for his nobleness!), he chucked the red wine to the glass, only to realize that red wine too has been completely used up.

Frustrated he threw the empty wine bottle with a mad growl. The bottle impacted with the only frame that hung in the threadbare room creating cracks on the portrait, which had been framed using the rich oak wood found in the prince’s garden and also had a thin gold lining surrounding it. It held a photo of a young girl, (probably from a noble family, just like him) in the middle of a big Ross garden. She was smiling at the bouquet of evening primroses, fingering the feather-weight petals and inhaling them with closed eyes.

Took him a second to realize what happened, and then, he was sprinting across the room towards the portrait. Tugging the portrait from the wall nail, he pulled it closer to his heart and sank down to the floor, inevitably once again stepping on the _glass shards _(of the broken wine bottle)_, crunching and dying them in the process._

He traced her face lovingly (him being capable of love?!), his fingers catching on the crack that ran diagonally from top to bottom. Occasionally (rather, _frequently, when he is in drunken haze_), he would like to imagine that she is actually smiling at him and not at the stupid bouquet she got from the _SLIMY GIT!_ (I know, I know…He doesn’t use a vocabulary of crass words like the red headed family, but desperate times calls for desperate measures…)

Right below his throne room, the courtiers were enjoying the large feast held in honour of the newly appointed king. They were drinking for his good health, even though the king was nowhere in sight. Instead, his best friend has graciously taken upon himself to host the banquet in his place and had also requested (rather forced) the workers to decorate the entire hall in bouquets of evening primrose. Eventually all drunken courtiers were bundled up and thrown to the dungeons. _The bumbling, meddling fools_

A soldier was placed in front of each cage and was told to take whatever measures necessary to cut off their escape “Even death wouldn’t matter”, he told the assembled warriors. “The current treasury couldn’t handle feeding those fools anyways” Also he emphasized one important fact. “I’m doing this for the sake of the empire we just won. The king is currently not in a healthy state after losing the princess, so we should all look out for him.”

All the maids and workers of the palace were told to retreat back to their chambers. The request was not necessary as everybody remaining within the halls had already fled the chambers upon seeing the change in demeanour of the king’s best friend.

Climbing up the staircase, he turned left and directly entered her chamber. The room was glowing in the soft moonlight as the curtains had been pulled apart. She always did hate those gaudy curtains… On her bedside, a wilted bouquet of roses sat within a large crystal vase. He replaced them with an evening primrose bouquet that he snuck from the halls, and threw the wilted Rosses across the room to the untended garden below.

At one time of his life, she had been his centre, his love, his air, hi world, his…. Everything..

But now he was mature enough to understand that love is such a fickle thing. Well he overcame it and surely could anyone else, if they wish to live within this kingdom that is. He despised lines like “Love conquers everything”. They were too cheesy and that was the first thing which brought doom to these two in the first place!

Well, no time like the present, to interrogate the soon-to-be-demoted king (drunk all the time too!). He also had so many other important matters to handle, like _rescuing_ her (otherwise assumed dead queen) from the abandoned castle, beheading the mumbling fools. Oh! and also digging up a miniscule grave for the pathetic king.

Closing her door (he had already closed _her_ door within his heart, a looong time ago), he strode towards the end of the corridor and stood in front the giant throne room for several seconds, relishing the sounds of muffled sobs coming from within. _How truly pathetic!_

Without bothering to knock, he pushed open the doors to find the pathetic king, sprawled across the floor clutching her portrait to his heart. Striding past the drunkard, he reached the throne and withdrew the King’s sword from its jewelled scabbard. Relishing the feel of the heavy sword on his hands, he turned towards the night sky and thanked all the gods above. May they give him enough strength to get rid of the king and rule the kingdom, and perhaps even to get rid of her if necessary. _Hopefully it won’t come to that, if she knows what’s right for her people._

Kneeling beside the fallen king, he lifted the king’s cheek to look at the red eyes and the bags beneath them. “It’s time for you to leave this world” he whispered softly, yet mockingly.

**“MALFOY??!!”**

It echoed around the room, even after the blade struck deep in to the heart and the blood gushed out , pouring in to the deep black rug on the floor. The portrait fell from his hands and shattered on the floor. Ironically, the primroses now just looked like the roses around her, _dyed in his blood._


	2. Amy Collins

**15th September 1999**

It was about 2 o’clock in the afternoon. The Baker’s wife, a plump woman of about forty years of age decided to close the bakery for the lunch break. When the new college complex was built in the neighbourhood, way back in the 1990, the bakery was frequently visited by the young gentlemen for a cup of coffee or by the senior lecturers for a warm breakfast. But with the opening of the newly built fancy restaurant adjacent to the college, day by day more and more of her customers were attracted away. Her boutique was rarely visited by the young girls, except for one Amy Collins.

Amy Collins, a second year graduate at the college comes to her bakery twice a week. She would always choose the table overlooking the college complex and the still lake. Highly discreet about her identity, would go into a flying rage when questioned about her parents. Rumours said that she was a Mexican by birth and had migrated due to family problems. But you could hardly keep faith in rumours...

Oh! She definitely had a foul memory, regarding a rumour about a Girl (Alice) who went to America for her higher studies. It said that Alice, who was _too busy_ enough to come home for the hols, was actually involved with an old professor from the same college! Her family went along a hard time, until she came back last December and assured everyone, that she was indeed getting married but to the said _professor’s son._

Right now, only two people were staying over at her bakery. One Amy Collins and a new boy to the neighbourhood (definitely sure about that, cause she would never forget such a startling pair of eyes!). Come to think about it he definitely is a new mystery that the town didn’t want at the moment. Well, perhaps she could keep it open for another fifteen minutes or so... What _harm_ could it bring anyways?

“Mrs. Cole… **Mrs. COLE**!?”

“Oh!!...” She looked up from daydream straight into the startling pair of green eyes.

“Can I get a coffee refill? Mine seem to have drained up” Lifting his empty cup for emphasis, he gave a small grin.

“What did you say your name was??”

“I’m dr- I’m Theodore…, you can call me Theo for short...”

“Here you go then, one hot cappuccino on the house. But I’m afraid that this will be closed in another couple of minutes. So, you better hurry up and run along”

“Um… Mrs. Cole… I’m really touched that you gave this free of charge, but I’m afraid that I don’t like cappuccino. That’s why I specifically requested a coffee...”

“Oh! You did, didn’t you?” She gave an uneasy smile. “Perhaps the old age is getting to me quicker than I thought! “Just leave it on the counter” “Ok, here’s your order, and will just cost you 2 galleons at the minimum?”

“**What the fuck did you just say?**” He placed or rather smashed the new cup on the counter spilling coffee all over and bored his green or rather grey eyes at the _seemingly harmless_ barista.

“**Uh…WHAT??**” “Boy, I really think you should kindly get out of my shop. I don’t tolerate when little dragons come and dip their snout in unwanted businesses. Run along little boy, run along…” She shooed him away with a nonchalant manner. None of this drew Amy’s attention as she continued to stare moodily at the lake.

She licked her lips while looking at the unaware girl at the corner. “I have some unsavoury business to attend and would kindly like to stay away unnecessary troubles, like babysitting crying baby dragons!!” She cackled loudly drawing the attention of Amy.

Looking up and and seeing the maniac look on the one pleasant barista, Amy clearly understood the crisis and decided to act upon her instincts and retreat as quickly as possible. She proceeded to pack up all her belongings in to a _beaded bag_.

_MAGIC!! So she’s a witch too. Just like me… But why does that look so disconcertingly familiar??_

_Shite!! That’s Granger’s!_

He could clearly recall seeing that same bag during the sixth year…

_She shouldn’t be here. It’s already too dangerous for the likes of her!!_

As soon as he started to walk towards her, to warn her, a group of four burly young men strode through the closed doors, straight towards HER!

Two men caged from both sides, forcing her to sit back down on the ratty old chair. Luckily for her none of them had recognized her beaded bag which she discreetly tucked inside her humongous jumper. The leader of the ring sat right across her, the chair crinkling stubbornly at the unbearable weight. He gave a maniacal grin and pushed a battered photograph towards her.

“Hello **_MUDBLOOD_**”

Whatever in the photograph shook her out of her stupor and she screamed loudly , only to find out that the man_(you can definitely call him a deatheater now)_ right behind her, had quickly cast a wandless silencio, effectively blocking out any sound that could indicate to the outside world of what is going on inside. She took gulps of fresh air (almost pantomiming a dying fish) to calm down her frantic heartbeat. (_well it'f not nice to make fun of granger right now, but it if FUNNY to see her without answers for once_) 

The scuffle of his sneakers on the wooden floor drew the attention of the four men except for AMY, who was still clutching on to the photograph fiercely.

“OI, Look who decided to join us without hiding behind his mamma’s skirts” The men guffawed at that and looked down upon him condescendingly. The lady (rather the wicked witch) has mysteriously disappeared, the board on the shop’s door has been turned to “CLOSED”, and had already taken extra precaution to ensure that nobody will escape the premises through any muggle way.

Amy looked up to see his unmistakeable grey eyes, matching with fully blond hair (that has not been cut in months and was currently tied up using a _muggle__ elastic band_) And just like that, whatever composure she had gained, broke right through, as she spoke in a broken voice…

**“MALFOY??!!”**


	3. Musings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a major writer's block and still do to a certain extent. Forgive my really late update!!

20th July 1996

Malfoy manor was stretched along a rather impressive land, adorned with several gardens; a tribute to the likes of all pureblood wives who resided there and several stables revealing different magnificent breeds of horses that caught the eye of each pureblood scion. It was a manor of extravagance and pomp, underlined with a silent deathly demeanour of arrogant pureblood bigotry that drove a nail at the filthybloods with each second of living breath.

It was never a home where parents and children share their fond memories but rather a diplomatic banquet hall where the pureblood scion met with his next-in-line heir and pureblood spouse. The pureblood spouse held the most pivotal role of up keeping the Malfoy name in the society headlines, away from all the underhanded transactions the scion gets up to. It was never a warm sanctuary that bars the vile clutches of dark magic which floats freely inside the manor, swirling in glee. It was also a glamoured Azkaban flourishing with the likes of every magical beast you could ever come across, where ONE Draco Malfoy was trapped within its massive four walls.

He was once a sweet, charming little boy with a mop of silky blond locks, who loved to play with his favourite house-elf, dobby, run around the vast Malfoy grounds or to sometimes fly around atop his toy broomstick (_without the constant nagging of his mother_). He was a child who longed for siblings and friends and never favoured the pureblood traditions. Despite being a tiny tot of age 4, Draco was burdened with the traditions and despised them with a passion. He longed to fly unburdened in the blue sky, like a Dragon (_like his namesake). _ But his parents had different ambitions for him to aspire... They longed for him to rule the magical world and wipe out the _mudbloods_ for good.

By the age of 8, Draco was mature enough to understand that his parents will never understand him for who he truly was. He no longer went by the name Draco, but rather adopted the name Malfoy among his pureblood mates, which inspired a hollow thrill in his heart to be called for, with such respect by both young and old. He only managed to have a true friend within the Nott Manor, Theodore Nott, who also backed out of Draco’s Life soon after the loss of his own mother. All- in-all, Draco Malfoy led an insipid, lacklustre life, occasionally beaten by his father, until he reached the magical age of 11, when he received the most awaited Hogwart’s letter.

His rejoice of receiving the letter was short-lived until the First hol’s. He was continuously berated by his mother and beaten by his father, every holiday, for coming second to a _Mudblood_ of all. The ingrained pureblood lessons in his mind failed to identify the difference between the purebloods and the mudbloods, as some mudbloods had better etiquette, grace and knowledge in comparison to his own mates at Slytherin. Yet, he too continued to hate all mud- muggleborns with an all-encompassing passion, for a completely different reason. The continuous berating and the beatings polluted his little mind too much, which led him once to believe that pushing Granger off the astronomy tower will be a real treat for everyone.

Standing up from the slightly ruffled green duvet, Malfoy strode towards the large windows that framed the entrance to his sequestered veranda. He was not a naïve little boy to squander his precious seconds of privacy with futile musing of his past. At the age of 16, Malfoy felt more mature than his own father. Two years ago, he would have put the entire blame upon his father for dragging the family name in the mud. But now he understood the reasoning behind all of his father’s actions. Being a bigoted pureblood by birth, Lucius Malfoy was never a man to back down from a fight. So he was compelled to support the Dark lord as the “so-called-order” would never believe in a defecting Malfoy, considering that a Malfoy had once been a best friend of the aspiring dark lord. The order of the Phoenix was partially to blame due to their unflinching ways of thinking without a head.

Malfoy continued to linger at the tapestry rather than to venture out and witness the true horror that descended upon the once magnificent Malfoy manor, in one large sweep. Even though he despised halfbloods and mudbloods in general, he still couldn’t grasp why it was entirely necessary to wipe out all filthy bloods from the face of earth…

He might be staunch in his selfish ways, but he was always a son before becoming the Malfoy heir, This led him to accepting this unsavoury mission which may directly lead to the wipe out of one bushy haired from Hogwarts. But it was this or the possibly long-drawn, inhumane death of him and his mother. Her mother may have been ruthless and unsavoury to outsiders, but she was the only mother he would ever have. If his father doesn’t have enough tact to save her, then save her , he will.

Pulling the tapestry back Malfoy headed down to the vast Malfoy library that stood right across the drawing room, ignoring the unsavoury jabs that Greyback and Rabastan made at his mother….. _They would get what's coming for them, ' cause Malfoys protect their own._


	4. Sanctimonia Vincet Semper

**1st August 1996**

Even though a majority of the Manor occupants were nocturnal, the early-rising minority included one tenacious persona, by the name of Bellatrix Lestrange, who always made it her mission to make his body familiar with all the twisted dark magic spells she comes across.

Aunt Bellatrix wakes up at the crack of dawn and trudges along the wooden stairway to reach his room, clacking her hideous dragonhide boots for good measure. One would be surprised that she even makes a physical effort to see her nephew in person, considering the way she treats her own husband. But in her eyes, I was just a pig to slaughter, and slaughter me she did!

I woke up to an incessant banging on my bedroom door, accompanied by a maniac shriek that definitely sounded like her. Figures. Living with the dark lord was not like sipping a cold cup of Earl Grey but rather like guzzling down a gallon of skele-gro. Last night was a testament to that, where I was imperiused by aunt Bellatrix to crucio my own mother, in front of a large gathering of death eaters, including my own father. This was just another one of her obligatory loyalty test (_in her own words_), to show her master that he nephew will never shirk away from his duties, like her brother-in-law. I wanted to scream at her and strangle her with my own hands, which would definitely lead to my mother being transferred to the care of Fenrir Grayback, the mangy werewolf.

My own beautiful mother who used to have long tresses of blond hair that reached her waist and face framed by high cheekbones and big black eyes, now resembled a typical patient of the Janus Thickey Ward. Looking at her, makes my blood boil with righteous anger and most of the time makes me feel like I’ve failed her in every possible way. Her mental condition continues to deteriorate with every passing day, no rather, every passing second. Uncle Snape always manufacture potions for her but recently she has stopped responding to most and opts to sit blankly on the veranda in the North wing which overlooks the beds of red roses and tulips, maintained by her own hands.

Catching my eyes on the opal mirror in the middle of my room, I realize how much the war has really taken from me. If either side fails to win this war soon, none of the parties will be able to fight for long…

Mipsy arrived at my room with a pop! , to deliver the suit Bellatrix had deemed fit for the training session. She scurried back away without a word, her long drooping ears along the pristine marble floor. Bellatrix had each of us under her thumb and yet my father was too dumbstruck to speak against her. Donning the black cape over, I hurried towards the drawing parlour, where the dark lord holds meetings at night and Bellatrix during the morning and also managed to cast a quick glamour over my battered face and blackened eyes on my walk to doom. My mother was dressed in a white long dress and draped over the mahogany chair facing the Malfoy grounds. Her face held no emotion and it broke me every time to see her weak like this…. Her shaking hands held a floral teacup half-filled by a dark concoction brewed by Bellatrix to eat away at my mother’s memories. Looking closely I detected a perfectly casted imperius on my mother, which explained her willingness to take _morning tea_ which she usually declines.

I greeted her with a good morning which she failed to comprehend. Vowing to somehow save her at all costs, I turned to look at Bellatrix who was sprawled on the grand couch usually reserved for my father or the dark lord. She held a flute of fire whiskey in one hand and her other hand trained the blackthorn wand on me. Her wild unkempt hair resembled the madness that shone through her eyes. She portrayed every single symptom of the deadly black madness that runs in the family. With one single flick, my wand was caught wandlessly and thrown in to the paper bin at the end of the parlour. She delighted in the fear and anger that shone through my eyes and flitted across my face. Her lips parted to deliver a hearty cackle that boomed across the silentious parlour. Several emotions flitted through my mother’s face, which ended up with her promptly dropping the teacup on the white plush rug.

Bellatrix had risen up from her perch, abandoning the fire whiskey flute in favour of her new prey. In the long run of preserving the blood purity of the wizarding world, she had lost all grace behooved of a pureblood woman. Stumbling for a bit in a drunken haze, she motioned for me to kneel at her feet. Clenching my fist tightly within my trouser pockets, I inhaled deeply. Miraculously, my fingers brushed across the DA coin I nicked from Granger last year. Maybe I’ll finally be able to absolve from my sins….

I locked my occulumency shields tightly, before sinking on to the plush rug which was now blemished with a murky brown stain ad littered with the broken pieces of the teacup from the Ming dynasty collection. I closed my eyes and awaited her judgement, only to be jerked upward from my chin, held by her discoloured fingers in a rough grasp. Black eyes clashed with the silver irises and initiated the first round of legilimency at a leisurely pace.

It felt like one of the longest days in my life. The ongoing assault aced at a brutal point and felt like I was constantly re-immersed in the fumes of the Blast ended skrewts. My mother's soft whimpering in the background, strengthened my resolve. The wold flew around me in a blur while she pounded away. Bellatrix had chipped away at most of my shield and it was matter of few seconds, before she breached by walls.

“Bellatrix”

I deployed the last tack up my sleeve. Projecting false memories at the front, she was fairly distracted away from my crumbling shields.

“BELLATRIX”

She relieved my memories on receiving blood purity lessons, which I’ve yet to receive.

I was suddenly kicked in the stomach, causing me to roll over on my hunches atop the plush rugs. My bleary eyes made out a blurry image of a tall deatheater standing in front of her speaking in hushed toned. My failing consciousness closed down all sensory doors and before the world finally stopped spinning for-good, I distinctly heard two words uttered by her maniacal voice.

“Vanishing Cabinets”


	5. Evanesco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any mistakes are my own.

_“Sons are the anchors to a mother’s life” - Sophocles_

**3rd August 1996**

My head was pounding viciously and my eyes had a hard time focusing, with the intense legilimens training with Bellatrix. My knees felt raw and swollen after kneeling on the Persian rug for hours and hours. She had even forbidden all of our elves to assist me saying that it helps to build my resolve. Well, except for little Mipsy, niece of the old Kreacher and a house elf of the ancient Black house, who had been secretly gifted to my mother on her wedding day by none other than the infamous Sirius Black. Our house wards too failed to provide any kind of protection, considering that she dismantled all those historic intricate warding patterns to accommodate the exquisite dark magic. All in all, me and my mother have become prisoners within our own home.

I caught the fuzzy image of Greyback posing languidly on the marble countertop, Rabastan stretched on the plush red couch along with several other deatheaters, all laughing at my expense. Mocking _their hosts_, the “Malfoy family”. I wanted to curl up in a ball, and cry my eyes out for all the unfairness within it. This was too much to handle, after seeing my mother last evening.

_Uncle Sev had finally come up with a long term cure to reduce the lasting effects of the combined imperius and cruciatus on a person. This was a trial and error method and one wrong ingredient or one extra dose could ruin her entire life, but we were both at wits end. It had been his suggestion from the beginning, considering that both of us were unable to stop her being tortured on a daily basis. After he lost Lily Evans (He still refuses to call her Lily Potter), Uncle Sev lived a life of celibacy, closing upon himself and putting up boundaries between him and others. My mother was the only one who was able to chip away at his walls. It also helped that they both shared a common ground; losing their loved ones to the lunacy of the all-consuming dark magic. His affection for my mother grew each day and outgrew the friendship bounds, when I climbed aboard the Hogwarts’s train. It was painful to overlook these swirling emotions and took several years for me to heal the wounds of betrayal she cast upon me. It was a specifically on a particular day in the third year I realized, that doing your utmost to help the ones you love, is the best thing in the world. That’s when I decided to overlook all these, hoping that he would be able to free her from her miserable married life from time to time. _

_The potion was filled into a batch of five vials and brought to the Manor, hidden within his massive flighty robes. Unlike me, Uncle Sev was granted permission to enter her chamber, considering he was the only talented healer within the circle of mutts. Mipsy vowed that she stayed by, until mistress Malfoy took all her potions. It proved to be correct when mother appeared at the dinner table looking much more like herself, wearing a long green dress with the hair dressed in a loose chignon. Lunch had been a quiet affair, but much more pleasant than the previous occasions, with her listening more attentively to my stories. She even managed a short laugh when I berated Granger for being a know-it-all in all the classes. I wanted her to retire to the chambers after lunch, but she was adamant on going for a short walk along the red rose bed, planted by her own hands few years ago. I conceded defeat here, but internally I was jumping in joy. Ever since the dark lord entered the manor, my mother retracted herself into a deep black void and my father set out to emptying the Malfoy cellar stocked 100 years ago. Until this moment, she had never wanted to do anything by herself except for eating and sleeping. But it had been too early to hope. _

_All our plans went down the hill when Mipsy appeared suddenly at the dinner parlour with a verbal invitation addressed to me, from the dark lord, to attend an evening tea party at OUR own guest parlour along with several of his high ranking death eaters. My father had fallen out of grace, to the point of not receiving an invite to the so-called tea party. The irony of it was never lost on him and always opted to waste away the time by reacquainting himself with the expensive Ogden’s bottles. _

_But last evening was a tad different and horrific in its entirety. _

_It commenced with a bad start, when the Dark lord placed his undivided attention on me. _

_As soon as I entered the parlour, my vision was maimed by the sight of all kinds of unsavoury beasts; from the pale vampires to the ghastly looking werewolves who tracked muddy foot trails all-over. The gathering was too silent for my taste while the air was heavy with unbridled emotions of fear, anger, confusion, disgust and perverse satisfaction. The fear for my life overbore the bravery I adopted minutes ago, my trembling legs nearly flipping over. The red eyes that bore into mine, seemed to glisten with unbridled joy while his long pale fingers were wrapped around his wand which pointed at a writhing mess of flesh at his feet. _

_“Draco Malfoy! What a pleasure!!” his enthusiastic voice dripping with sarcasm, rang across the silentious room. I looked at his face and recognized immediately that my reply was unnecessary. He has once again entered my mind effortlessly, possibly disappointing my occulmens tutor standing at the corner (which was actually much less painful than Bellatrix). This was something I was rather good at. Being a disappointing failure at everything I possibly could._

_After a few seconds he withdrew and beamed at Bellatrix._

_“Bellatrix, you have raised your nephew rather well, given the circumstance.”_

_“Thank you My Lord, you are very generous!!” she shrieked with glee and bowed deeply at the half blood maniac. The **irony **of a “pureblood woman”, coming from an old family name, kneeling at the feet of a halfblood with arms outstretched was not lost on the dark lord, as he replied with a smirk which would have given the Zabinis a run for their money. But all too soon, it vanished, only to be replaced with an inhumane grin which his lips strained widely to accommodate. _

_All his visitors stood up, seeing that he was already moving forward, away from the dreaded throne, towards the snivelling mess huddled at the epicentre of the room. It was probably a mugg- mudblood caught by a snatcher from a nearby muggle town. He kicked it roughly repeatedly, in the stomach, waiting for it to open the eyes. It was animalistic, inhumane and…._

_It was as if he caught my wandering stray thoughts……_

_Time stood still as his eyes slowly shoot upwards and latched on to mine….._

_1, 2, 3…. _

_“Draco, can you see what my snatchers have gotten me?” I intercepted with a barely there nod._

_The next few seconds were a blur, while I was crucioed a multiple times. When I got up, everything was the same, except that I was slightly swaying on my feet and several drops of blood was running free. My head was throbbing with a dull pain when I felt two corporeal hands slowly squeezing the life out of me. Alarmed, I looked up to see that the Dark lord had reclaimed his throne._

_I had clearly offended him and he wished to make a lesson out of me. Hastily, I fell on my knees to beg for his forgive, only to realize I was late. Too late in fact. _

_“Yaxley, Fetch my guinea pig from the chambers!”_

_Yaxley stood up brushing imaginary lint from his threadbare black robes, sneering at me, on the way out._

_Guinea Pig?? Who was it this time? It can’t be RIGHT??? Oh! No!! He can’t possibly mean…._

_“My lord!! Forgive me for my impertinence. I promise-”_

_The thumping sound of heavy boots stopped my beg-_

_“Walk fast, you good-for-nothing filthy bitch”, accompanied by the distinct sound of a painful whimper._

_I whipped around to see that Yaxley held MY MOTHER, by her neck and was dragging her roughly towards me. Fear ran unreservedly along my nerves, constricting my heart rather painfully. He dropped her right next to me, her frail body failing to cushion the fall. My ears felt too numb to register anything except for the Lubdublubdublub- resonating from within. _

_Eyes glistening with unshed tears her hands reached out to me only to be slapped away by an instantaneous wandless hex from Bellatrix._

_Bellatrix was panting loudly disrupting the pin-drop silence. She looked to be wilder than usual, with all of her occulumens shields in disarray. The inherited black madness within her, thrived in the proximity of the dark lord. She seemed to be of a conflicting mind, her wild black eyes darting from me to my mother in rapid progression. Her eyes promised retribution for both of us before composing herself enough to meet the wrath of the dark lord._

_“I truly beg your forgiveness, My Lord” she bowed low to the dark lord, the shaking hands clutching on to her gaudy black dress._

_The dark lord remained stoic until she stood back. Her face showed clear defeat, but her posture never wavered while she stood tall and rigid in front of him. The black sisters were indeed made of strong blood. She was crucioed for a painstakingly long period of time, her astonishing display of endurance and restraint only promising more punishments for the both of us. At the end, Bellatrix stood up gracefully and bowed again._

_“Bellatrix you have disssappointed me greatly.” I flinched a bit at his parseltongue influenced dialect._

_“Please my Lord, give me one final chance to redeem myself and also my nephew for having such a pair of disappointing parents.” here, she spat for emphasis in my mother’s direction. _

_Uncle Sev had me under a langlock to prevent further escalation of this imminent disaster._

_He tusked. “Indeed, Indeed”_

_“Do you all agree with Bellatrix?” A pin drop silence ensured._

_This was one of the favourite games played by the dark lord. He would ask a trick question and based on his mood, the replier will either get a heavy torture or a valued promotion in ranks._

_Only Rodolphus was brave enough to answer._

_“Yes, My Lord”_

_Rodolphus and Bellatrix both hated each other’s guts but they both managed to show a united front, in the presence of the Dark lord. It was laughable at all times._

_“Ah! I knew it. Rodolphus is my man. I have a more important task for you. Meet me at the study closer to midnight.” Lucius is going to empty the cellar at a faster rate. _

_“Bellatrix, you have always been my most loyal follower, but you have failed me now in every way possible.” he scratched his non-existent beard and looked at all three of us thoughtfully._

_“Bella, you should prove me your loyalty, before I let you back into my circle.” eyes bridled with tears of shame, she nodded vigorously._

_“Anything, my lord”, she gasped. “Anything for you.” _

_“Then prove me wrong. Show me the lengths you are willing to go for me. Show me how you intend to make a proper deatheater from our young Draco.” here he looked at me._

_“Bella, I too had a very disappointing mother and I pity Draco for the same. In some ways, we both share similarities, Don’t we Draco?” he meant to sound sympathetic but instead it made my skin crawl with anger and disgust. Before I gave a cutting remark, Bellatrix butted in._

_“Anything and everything you wish, My Lord.” Bellatrix clearly hated any sympathy towards me, especially by the dark lord. Gee, as if I wanted his untoward sympathies._

_My mother was subjected to her vicious spells over and over again, until she could barely speak out the pain engulfing her whole body. Her body spasmed a multiple times before her hands gave out and she collapsed unconscious or?!. If she lived, it was entirely in thanks to Uncle Sev. If not, Lucius will see the real Draco Lucius BLACK close enough for a tantalisingly slow death. Mother opened her tired eyes and flicked them a bit, to ensure that she has not left me…. Yet. I guess Lucius can live for a bit longer._

_This was dragging longer than I expected. It is high time for Uncle Sev to interrupt and conclude this meeting. Instead I saw him tapping his feet in a pattern which meant that he was waiting for something else. My worries were soon answered when I heard man lumbering into the parlour. If it was even possible, the Dark lord grew angrier, the dark magic oozing out of him engulfing me in a tight deathly embrace._

_The squeaky clearing of a throat confirmed it all. It was Pettigrew of course. _

_ “My Lord”, his voice was trembling with fear and adoration._

_“NO, Don’t say another word.”_

_“Bellatrix, Yaxley and Pettigrew. Come to my study, We’ll discuss it there.” Robes billowing, he left the parlour taking away the suffocating influx of dark magic with him._

_Sleep finally took over my troubled body._

I climbed the stairs as steadily as I can promptly passing out, after seeing the last person I ever expected, sitting nonchalantly on the green divan.

Theodore Nott and….. Nothing.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was standing atop a sprawling green meadows, stretching beyond the horizons. The air around me sounded so quiet but not unpleasantly though. In the distance I could spot a distinct mop of brown hair running towards me, waving the hands wildly. I had never felt so much freer in my whole life and yet something unnerving coiled in my lower gut. She was only a few feet away from me….. and I was completely baffled. Dressed in a periwinkle summer dress, she looked too beautiful to be true. Her contagious, excited babbling intensified the ringing in my head, and I woke up with a loud gasp.

Mipsy was smearing the murtlap essence hurriedly over the visible bruises, muttering to herself about her little master’s weakness and how ashamed she was to serve such a master. So much for the loyalty of house elves. I had been restrained to the bed through light bonding spells and a weak incarcerous that wove through both my ankles and wrists. My nose wrinkled in distaste at a memory ten years ago, when it had been Theo who was restrained to the bed to shove down a skele-grow potion, after an intense Quidditch practice game. Theodore sat directly in-front of me, flipping through the weekly witch magazine nonchalantly, ignoring my gasp altogether. I would certainly bid 50 galleons that Theo was internally laughing his head off at the reverse in our roles as his queer smirk was a dead giveaway. He had always been an egotistical bastard and he would always be. After a few seconds, seemingly done with the reading (considering that he always sneered at the said trash with disdain.) he gave me a dead stare, lifting a scrawny eyebrow.

His expressive eyes, upturned nose and the slight twitch in the jaw, spoke volumes, but no words were expressed. If I learned one thing from the short friendship with Theodore Nicholas Nott was, that his pride of being the only direct descendent of Percival Nott was way bigger than his oversized brain. His silent dare for me to speak first, resulted in our long foregone tradition of eye2eye stare, which I lost once again. Better to get over this really quickly, before Bellatrix sends Mipsy back to spy on me.

“What do you want Theodore?”

I winced at the end. Despite not uttering a single word to him in 10 years, I had never once called him Theodore.

“What do _I_ want?”

He laughed at this a bit cruelly. This is something I had observed him develop, over the years a Hogwarts. It was his safe reaction to all uncomfortable situations.

“It’s not what I want Malfoy. It’s what you want.”

“You always worry me with your inability to understand any situation. How can you ever be a skilled deatheater, by being soo-”, rubbing imaginary stubble on his jaw, Theo was openly mocking me now. “-clueless?”

“I’m here to help you with the new task.”

Help me? How is he going to help me? Theo had never being strong willed to be a deatheater. He was definitely not a deatheater and will never understand how this all works.

The dark lord had told me in his strictest confidence that I was never to ask for the help of any other living being.Theo must’ve seen the myriad of emotions fleeting on my mind, as he snorted. Very ungracefully, might I add.

“Malfoy, I know how to jump around the loops in those conditions to you. You don’t need to know all the details.”

Who was this Theodore Nott? And what happened to the innocent nerdy Theo I knew 10 years ago?

“What do you mean by _I don’t need to know?_ Of course, I need to know. You don’t know an iota of what the dark lord is capable of.”

“Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy”, his condescending voice grated my nerves, but I held on a strict poker face.

“Don’t be so _bold_ enough to reject my help so quickly. Tell me, who else is willing to help you?”

Theo had long ago abandoned the comfort of the divan to grip my study table with tense hands.

“Who else???” “Blaise Zabini-”

“The Zabinis had always been always been a neutral party at conflicts. He definitely will not leave his widowed mother behind to help you or the Order.”

I opened my mouth but Theo beat me to it.

“And don’t even tell me that you were thinking about Crabbe and Goyle. God knows how much of their combined idiocy one can put up within a day.”

I sighed in agreement but refused to acknowledge it. Not a day but even one hour. Despite their many bad traits, Crabbe and Goyle had always been loyal to me.

“Really Nott? I expected better from you. I was obviously gonna say Severus Snape. Hopefully, HE is up to your standard.”

His cheeks tinted with a pink blush but soldiered on.

“Malfoy you are way more obtuse than I give you credit for. You should never ask for the help from any deatheater. That is the easiest source the Dark lord can tap into. He would never expect me to help you, considering our widely known animosity.”

I thought it over. There was no any valid reason to reject, except for the so-called animosity between us.

“Ok.”

“Ok?”

“Yeah ok. I don’t understand your-”, here I struggled with the right words to say. Goal? Ambition? Or was he sincere in this whole thing? “-motive for helping me, and I really don’t care…..” Really? his eyes seem to say. Yeah well, I may seem like a really cold person from outside, but I had always been a hard-boiled egg, too sensitive to handle any unbridled emotions. The Rom of requirement had always seen to that. “…as long as you listened to what I say.” I waited for any form of acknowledgment. Theo always had problems with listening to anyone else as he always believed that listening to his father an extra second longer, caused his mother to leave forever.

“Here’s the plan.”

Draco spent the next few hours left to spare, on making plans to secure a death-eater mark and to splurge the Malfoy galleons at the Borgin and burkes. The plan was formulated hastily with the indulgence of the ever-so-present Theodore Nott. The two young scions were thoroughly exhausted by mid-noon in the extravagant Malfoy library. Both sported tired eyes and piles of old tomes next to each other.

The Malfoys had always been in the lead to possess any sort of extravagant magical items but sadly, none were wise enough to research the finer aspects of magic. Perhaps except for one Miss. Gwenythine Malfoy, who later bestowed all her belongings to her godson Percival Nott. Percival Nott had always been a man of his own words and was rumoured to have spent his whole life within the massive library. He was despised by many of his bloodline for being lenient towards the people with muddied blood and thus his successor burnt down most of his research material. This initiated the first grudge between the Notts and the Malfoys, which grew in abundance over the 100 years that followed it.

Draco had always been a secret admirer of this great scholar but had never received imminent permission from either families to visit his library.

“Theo-”,

Not scrunched his nose annoyedly but showed no other sign of hearing the greeting. Times have changed so it seems. They had always been Theo and Drake to each other. But now…., it’s best to stick to the surnames they have been familiar with, over the few years at Hogwarts. Clearing his throat, he decided to get over this quickly, only to be outmatched by Theo himself.

“Malfoy, I haven’t got all day. Whatever you’ve got, just spit it out. ”

“Ah, Yes… Well”

Grey eyes met the steely blue eye of one angry Nott.

“Nott”

“Malfoy”, with more authority than necessary.

“Nott, I’m not sure that you would much like my plan. But this is the only way. Believe me, I’m not a big fan of this either”. Liar, he had always dreamt of going there.

“Okay, I’m all ears”, the voice wavering a bit at the end.

Smirking, he continued.

“Percival Nott had always been one of the only few elegant men on your bloodline, Nott”

A loud sigh, followed by a nod to continue.

“He managed to steal _elegantly_, one of the riches that belonged to _us_. And I fairly believe that we can find answer to this problem there”, Leaning back in the wooden oak chair, he observed his friend’s face leisurely. Scratch that, partner-in-crime.

“So, precisely what you are trying to imply, is that we are a bunch of thieves. Is that right?” the voice drawled out with undercurrents of anger swimming in them

“Not exactly.” he smiled. “But you can interrupt it anyway you want.”

Theo stood up, any traces of restraining his anger long gone. He slammed his hands on the table and gripped it tightly. His eyes were brimming with unbridled anger and mouth set tight in an angry frown, Theo looked to be just as the Nott senior except that he looked to be way younger. 

“Malfoy.I.Am.Not.Your.Friend” he gritted out and inhaled deeply.

“Listen, whatever stupid notion you have in your head, just – just drop it. My father _adores_ you. This was his idea all along”, he laughed humourlessly.

“_Try to be like that Malfoy boy. GROW UP AND BE LIKE THE PROPER NOTT SCION YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE, without ruining my life like you weak mother did”, _he added mockingly.

“My mother had always been the only one who truly cared about me. There was a time that I used to think, that I actually had a real friend outside. But the ship sailed long time ago. ”

Both were on their feet now and it was now Draco who dug up the old grave now.

“What do you mean???” “I had always been there for you. YOU were the one who always pushed me away, mocked me in front of the common room and _humiliated_ in me all ways possible”

“Always been there you?! Funny I rather remember you as the weak coward, who turned his back to me, the only time I truly needed his help.”

“Face it Malfoy! You have always been a selfish coward git. Never bothered about others. It was always about you. You. You and you. Remember the amount of windows you have broken at my place and the number of lashings I’ve had from my father each time?? You never stayed back ONCE, to check on me.”

Draco sat back stunned, wringing his hands helplessly.

“Malfoy, you have always been a pathetic coward. I truly pity your parents. But that’s not why I’m here.” taking a deep breath, he stepped a few feet back.

“As I said before, my father always disparages everything about my mother, to the point where I could not take it anymore. He burns down each one of the memories I have of her.” He sniffled a bit here and looked to be a little lost in thoughts.

“It won’t be long before he starts torturing me too, and I want to make sure that it will not come to pass.”

Nott continued his explanation after seeing the confusion blatantly displayed on Draco’s face.

“At my mother’s deathbed I promised to avenge her untimely death.”

I clearly understood what he intended to do, but respected him enough not to meddle in his own personal intentions.

“So, what is the connection between her, and you helping me” _annoying me mostly._

“Father thinks that if I spend some time to assist you in your _tasks_, the dark lord will notice me as a potential deatheater. He believes that it is the only way to enter the higher ranking circle”

“Also, Malfoy, don’t even for one second forget how much of a pathetic coward you really are” with that Nott strode away towards the Floo, not willing to spend any extra seconds at the dark lord’s lair.

Draco was slumped over the chair dejectedly. Selfish. Pathetic. Coward. True, he was all of it, but yet it was the first time someone actually told that to his face. He had always been is mother’s precious boy, with nary a fault. His father had always muttered behind his back and had beaten him every holiday for being weak at academics. His aunt Bellatrix…... she had said many things to him but none of the above. He wanted to apologize for all of his faults, knowing that none will cover any grieving Theo went through. Yet, he found his tongue too tied for any words to spill. They were all latched at the back of his throat, shameful to come out and face the wrath of an angry wounded man.

_Is this what it feel like to receive the Dementor’s kiss? All the hopelessness shrouding upon you, when you have nothing to give back…_

Theo had long left the library and now was few feet away from the Floo point, when he heard the hearty laughs of a gathering of deatheaters close by. He had expended his magical energy, to engrave a point in Draco’s mind and now was only guided by nothing but the fear that uncoiled in his gut. He slipped into a nearby guest room in the hallway, wand drawn out in his shaking left hand. The rumours he heard of the amusing pastimes of the deatheaters, were not forgotten. His musing was interrupted by a man’s deep grunt from behind. He turned back and came upon a sight he wished he had never seen.

Draco was running down the staircase, two stairs at once. When the dark lord first came to their house, he wanted to completely change the outlay, to emphasize his ownership. Knowing this, he and his mother had woven their own hidden floo room behind her bedroom as a final failsafe for both. The main floo was always monitored by a rotating group of his loyal subjects, who always subjected the users to a fair bit of inane questions and torturing.

When he was rounding the hallway, he saw the distinct silhouette of Theo, ducking into a guest room at the far end. He was standing right outside the guest pavilion where mother was entertaining Yaxley and Avery. Yaxley eyes were constantly trained upon the partly opened. It was a risqué move to walk in front of that particular door since any sort of disillusionments had been banned within the manor. Avery was leering at his mother while she seemed to be oblivious of them both. With a simple wandless hex, Yaxley’s teacup rattled a bit, spilling a few splatters of tea on his deatheater robes. Yaxley always strived to be precise, even in his shabby state of clothing. This was a dark stain on his long-standing reputation and accompanied by Avery’s snickers which turned into full-blown laughter, Yaxley had exceeded his thinly stretched temper-line long ago. When Avery started to beg for forgiveness amidst howls of pain, Draco dashed in search of Theo.

The door of the particular guest room was slightly ajar and the silently cast homonium revelio revealed the presence of more than one.

_What had Theo gotten into_?

The hallway appeared deserted and silenitious, except for the distant whimpering from the guest pavilion. Draco slithered through the narrow space, only to be met with pale faced frozen-to-the-spot Theo and another being he had avoiding throughout the entire summer.

_Not again, Theo._

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic. Please review!!!!  
They will be like the final drops of precious water to a dying man, on his jewel studded throne, sequestered within the confines of the dessert.


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